CHAPTER 6
Calendula did not reappear that night, nor was she there the next morning when I woke. I made it my mission at breakfast to pocket as many of the fat, red strawberries that appeared on my plate as I could, unsure how many it would take to curry her favor.
Lana, Moric and Anama came to the table just as I was stuffing the last fruit into my already bulging pocket.
“You’re up early this morning.” Lana’s cornsilk hair was tied up today, only the front strands of lilac curling gently against her cheeks. She looked better rested, the dark circles beneath her eyes fading to be near imperceptible. Her skin was less pale too, her cheeks tinted a rosy pink.
“What?” she asked, catching my stare. “Do I have something on my face?”
I shook my head. “No. You look nice this morning.”
“Have I looked like shit the other days?”
Moric hid a grin behind a piece of buttered toast and Lana chucked a grape at his head.
“You’d be amazed at what a good night’s sleep and solid meals can do for my well-being,” she grumbled.
“I didn’t think you were getting much sleep with all the fantasizing you’ve been doing about a certain golden-eyed–”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Lana shot him a glare that could have cracked ice. “Don’t start with me.”
Moric swatted a hand at the invisible threat like it was an annoying gnat. “Relax, he’s not here.”
Anama gave a rare chuckle as Lana upped the stakes of her next threat.
“What are they on about?” I whispered to her as Moric lobbied another retort at Lana that made her cheeks turn beet red.
“He’s teasing her about Septimus,” Anama whispered back. “He thinks she’s got a crush on him.”
“I do not.” Lana scowled at us. “Anyway, enough about me. Let’s talk about Lirah and the fiasco that was yesterday’s sparring session.”
Lana was clearly trying to take the heat off herself, but it worked. Moric took the bait. “What was that about, Lirah? We came to get you before dinner last night, but you didn’t answer.”
“After Midius healed me, I was so exhausted I slept straight through dinner. I didn’t even hear you knock.”
“That’s not what I’m asking about,” he pressed.
“I know.” I explained the events that had transpired the night I was taken.
When I was done, Lana let out a low whistle. “That explains why Kilian was so pissed. What’s so special about this governor’s daughter, anyway?”
“I have no idea. Rumor is she’s so ill she can barely stand.
The governor probably had her moved somewhere safer for Augustine.
Anyway, it doesn’t even matter. I’m here now.
And we won’t stand a chance of making it through the survival challenge unless we start figuring out Lomask and its citizens. ”
“I agree,” Anama said. “To survive on an isle, you need to know as much about it as possible. I’d say a trip to the library is needed.”
We hurriedly finished our breakfast and agreed to meet outside the stairwell ten minutes later. I had something I needed to do before we left.
I slipped inside my room and rifled in my pocket for the strawberries. Setting all five of them on the table, I stepped back. “I know you’re there, Calendula. I’m sorry for offending you the other night. I could really use your knowledge for the rest of the Trials.”
A few seconds transpired into minutes, and I was aware that the others would be waiting for me.
My shoulders slumped in disappointment, and I turned to leave.
At the rustling behind me, I paused. When I looked back, three of the strawberries had disappeared and the shadow sprite sat perched on the edge of the table.
“I see Kilian’s taught you how to bribe,” Calendula said tartly.
“I wouldn’t call it bribing… I’m just trying to make amends,” I said. “I know we started off on the wrong foot. I really didn’t mean to snap at you. I know it’s not an excuse, but these past few days have been very overwhelming.”
Her eyes softened, and she rose to the balls of her feet, rolling another strawberry toward her.
The fruit was half her size, but she crouched down to take a dainty nibble from its side.
After she swallowed, she said, “It was difficult for me… after my last mortal died. It’s been ten years, but I still think of her sometimes. ”
After speaking to Syrina yesterday and now hearing the raw pain in Calendula’s voice, I understood. “I guess I’ll just have to try my godsdamned best not to die, then.”
The joke was halfhearted but there was truth to it. I did not want to die. I wanted to fight. Through each challenge thrown my way, I wanted to claw my way out, tooth and nail. I wanted to see Umma again. I wanted to live.
Calendula gave me a doubtful look but launched into the air, a blur of darkness. She flew straight toward me, landing gracefully on my hand. Her tiny wings stirred the air around my fingers, tickling me as they settled on my palm. She yawned softly. “Where are we going?”
We exited through the stairwell and into a sun-drenched courtyard.
Despite the warm rays on my face, the air was still freezing.
The snow from the mountains drifted like dandelions through the air, sticking to Moric’s hair.
He shook his head, dispelling the flakes, and puffed a breath of hot air into his cupped hands.
“It’s cold as all fuck,” Lana muttered, stepping into the courtyard proper. “Where is this library, again?”
Calendula snored softly from where she had tucked herself into the large pockets of my cloak, no help at all.
Lana’s golden-eyed sprite Osmanthius flew a few feet ahead of us, wings flapping erratically to keep him suspended at eye level. “It’s not too far. Follow me,” he said.
We scurried along the courtyard, dodging elven carting baskets laden with unusual fruit and sweet-scented loaves – all elven food by the look and smell – until we reached a big archway.
I looked over my shoulder to find Valhan House stretched out like a magnificent beast against the backdrop of the icy summits.
The house was impossibly tall, some turrets even towering over smaller peaks.
I could not see the med hall from my position near the archway and knew it would be on the opposite side, facing the summits.
It was too cold to even speak as we followed Osmanthius down the cobblestones leading away from Valhan House.
The path followed a winding road, marked with strange signs in what I assumed was the elven alphabet.
I could not read it, but Osmanthius seemed to know exactly where he was taking us as he flitted across the road, cutting right along a narrow passage.
The alleyway opened onto a large area that reminded me of the courtyard at Valhan House.
Towering buildings lined the sides of the space.
Most of them looked like residential homes, flattened one on top of the other, but the ground units were almost entirely storefronts.
There was everything from clothing shops boasting the latest designs in cloaks and gloves, spun from premier elven silk, to patisseries, with roasted coffee and delicate, sugar-dusted confections nestled against the windowsill.
Elven passed from store to store, clutching mugs of hot cocoa and large shopping bags.
The colors were so vibrant, unlike the dull browns and drudgery of Serila.
And the scents were so overwhelming, I could not identify where one ended and the other began.
I couldn’t help but feel this place was not meant for mortal eyes. We did not belong here.
Though they noticed us, the elven did not pause their shopping or give us so much as a cursory glance.
There was no hostility in the space they gave us either.
It was simply as Kilian had said: we had been bestowed the protection of the Mortal Trials.
We passed the front of a boutique which sold small trinkets and tokens, and I stopped when a sparkling silver piece caught my eye.
“See anything you like, dearie?” An elven female was stooped so low arranging the stock beneath the table that I hadn’t noticed her at first. As she straightened, I saw she wore long, pastel blue robes with intricate designs that I could spend all day studying and still not have time to appreciate every detail.
Silver dripped from her neck, an abundance of pendants littering her chest.
“Your pieces are stunning.” I eyed the rack.
Lana and the others had paused a few feet away, eyes wide as the elven female reached over to grab the token I had initially admired.
It was solid silver and flecked with onyx dust, the pendant shaped like a diamond.
In the center of the diamond, an open eye stared back at me.
A delicate, short chain was affixed to its outermost points.
The elven stretched her arm toward me and pressed the bracelet into my hand. Stunned, I looked down at it, a feeling of warmth settling in my bones at the contact.
“Take it,” the female said.
I shook my head, even though I desperately wanted it. “I can’t. I don’t have any coins to pay for it, and it’s far too lovely to just give away.”
“It was never mine to begin with.” The elven returned to stocking her shelves, no longer paying me any attention.
Lana clutched at my hand, pulling me away from the stall before I could protest further.
“When an elven grants you a trinket, you take it,” Osmanthius huffed from Lana’s shoulder. “It is considered gravely rude to refuse any offering.”
“I didn’t know,” I murmured, turning the piece over to inspect the back. A thin sentence was engraved along the diamond, barely legible, and written in the elven alphabet. Perhaps Calendula would be able to translate it for me when she woke.
I wrapped the bracelet around my wrist, securing the metal clasp as we came to a stop before a tall, face-brick building. I peered up at the elven signage, which was written in gold and then, in smaller print beneath, in Grilish, the mortal tongue –
Pyxis.
“What does it mean?” I whispered to Anama, as if the library could hear me.